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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763043">Rumors</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam'>incorrectbatfam</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Gen, Humor, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:47:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,343</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively: what to do when you accidentally hook up with your best friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bart Allen &amp; Cassie Sandsmark, Bart Allen/Jaime Reyes, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rumors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualoftheblade/gifts">bisexualoftheblade</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/694945">Rumors</a> by Sopphires.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The title and plot were inspired by the song “Rumors” by Jake Miller, plus the linked video. </p><p>Also, for the sake of this story, Bart and Jaime are around the same age. (Actually, everyone is around the same age here.)</p><p>Gifted to bisexualoftheblade. I'm releasing this monstrosity into the world and tacking your name on it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Knock knock. </em>
</p><p>Bart whistled as he rocked on his heels, waiting. Behind his back, a bottle dangled from his fingers, the frosty glass brushing his t-shirt. From the neighboring dorm, he could hear the sounds of people making out—and it was quickly escalating into something more.</p><p>Before a disgusted expression could form on his face, the door swung open.</p><p>“Jaime! Just the man I wanted to see,” Bart exclaimed, throwing an arm around his best friend. “What’s shakin’?”</p><p>“Not much,” Jaime replied. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Cassie were studying for chem.”</p><p>“We finished early,” Bart said. “She’s got a sleepover with the girls and I was thinking I could hit the town with my <em> B-F-F </em>.”</p><p>As always, he reached to ruffle Jaime’s spiky hair, and like every time, Jaime dodged it expertly.</p><p>“<em>Lo siento,</em> <em>hermano</em>. I have a paper due next week.”</p><p>“<em>Psh</em>, you have plenty of time,” Bart said. “Come on, it’s Friday night! Don’t you wanna live it up?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Bart flopped onto the scratchy couch, pouting. “You don’t want me to be lonely, do you?”</p><p>Jaime rolled his eyes. “Loneliness won’t kill you.”</p><p>“<em>Aaactually</em>, it’s been scientifically proven that lonely people have shorter lifespans.”</p><p>Jaime grabbed two soda cans from his mini-fridge and tossed one to Bart. “Figured you might want some coke with that rum.”</p><p>Catching the can with one hand, Bart teased, “You know me so well. Anyway, when are we leaving?”</p><p>“Hey, I never said I was going,” Jaime pointed out.</p><p>“Dude,” Bart said, “you <em> always </em> end up going.”</p><p>“I hate that you know me so well,” Jaime grumbled. “Gimme five minutes.”</p><p>Satisfied, Bart leaned back against the sofa, definitely <em>not </em>enjoying the view as Jaime began taking off his shirt before he even entered the bedroom. No siree, they were strictly friends. Bros. <em> Amigos</em>.</p><p>Now, if only the tips of his ears got the memo, because they flared up when Jaime emerged from the other room wearing a dress shirt with the top unbuttoned. Jaime adjusted his hair and grabbed his wallet and keys.</p><p>
  <em> Think platonic thoughts. </em>
</p><p>Bart threw his arm around Jaime. “Tonight’s gonna be unforgettable! Just you wait.”</p><hr/><p>Three hours and five vodka shots later, the neon lights of the club were too bright and the world spun around Bart as though he was on an amusement park ride. The alcohol warmed his body, his legs ached from standing for so long, and his shirt grew increasingly damp. He downed one more raspberry-flavored shot and chased it with a can of overly sweet cherry cola.</p><p>Through the blur and low magenta lights, one thing stood out crystal clear: Jaime, </p><p>Bart had let him have the last available barstool, and Jaime was busy finishing his second margarita. As another dubstep song pounded through the air, Jaime handed the glass back and asked for the tab.</p><p>Bart stumbled over and wrapped himself around Jaime’s equally sweaty body. “We’re leaving?”</p><p>“<em>Sí, cariñooo</em>,” Jaime said, words slurring together.</p><p>Bart began to giggle uncontrollably. “Did you just call me a carnita?”</p><p>Jaime sighed and playfully rolled his eyes. “Yes, Bart, I called you a Mexican meat dish.”</p><p>“‘Cause I’m more than a snack?” Bart waggled his eyebrows. </p><p>The cold night slammed into their bodies as they left the stuffy crowdedness of the bar. Shivering, Bart pulled Jaime closer, as though the latter was an electric blanket. The smell of sweat mingled with alcohol and spicy cinnamon cologne. In hindsight, he should’ve brought a jacket. </p><p>As they made their way down the boulevard, leaning against one another for balance, Jaime started laughing for no reason. Bart decided <em>that </em>was his favorite song of the night. </p><p>Several minutes passed, talking nonsense and chasing each other down the empty sidewalk in a very unsteady game of tag. A couple blocks from Jaime’s dorm, Bart paused.</p><p>“Hey.” Bart poked the skin exposed by Jaime’s shirt. “Can I tell you something?”</p><p>Jaime grinned. “‘Course you can.”</p><p>“Good.” Bart leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t let Jaime know, but I got a massive freakin’ crush on him.”</p><p>Jaime threw his head back. “Can I say something too?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>He leaned in. “Don’t let Bart know, but I have a crush on him.”</p><p>It took way too long—nearly a minute—for the realization to hit.</p><p>“Wait a sec,” he said. “<em>We’re </em> Bart and Jaime.”</p><p>“Huh.” Jaime stopped. “I guess we are.”</p><p>“Can I share a secret?” Bart asked.</p><p>Jaime nodded eagerly.</p><p>Instead of saying something, Bart grabbed Jaime by the biceps, pinned him against the nearest wall, and smashed their lips together. He felt Jaime stiffen for a split second before melting into the hot, salty kiss. Jaime’s hands anchored onto Bart’s body and began exploring, starting from the nape of his neck and roaming down to his chest, and then his hips, and then below that. A shiver ran down Bart’s spine as he clawed at Jaime’s clothed back, like a cat trying to scratch through the curtains.</p><p>Jaime pulled apart and, with a tilted smile on his lips, said, “What say we take this inside?”</p><hr/><p>The roiling hangover hit Bart before he even opened his eyes, as though someone had whacked him over the head with a billy club. But he didn’t need to open them to know that something wasn’t right.</p><p>For starters, he knew he wasn’t in his bed, because his sheets felt <em> nowhere </em> near this silky soft. And the place smelled too nice to be his dorm too, like a giant Yankee Candle. His tongue was coated in the bitter-sour aftertaste of liquor and something else he couldn’t pinpoint. Everything waist down ached. </p><p>It was the unnatural breeze on his lower half that made his eyes snap open. So, too, did Jaime’s.</p><p>“<em>¿¡Qué diablos!?</em>”</p><p>“WHAT THE <em> FUCK?!?</em>”</p><p>Bart nearly fell off the bed as he scrambled to get his clothes on; he could hear Jaime doing the same. </p><p>“This was a mistake. This was a <em> big </em>mistake,” said Bart.</p><p>“I don’t even remember what happened,” Jaime replied, running his fingers through his hair. “Just… how?!?”</p><p>“Neither do I.” He tugged on his rumpled shirt. “As far as we’re both concerned, this <em> never </em> happened.”</p><p>“Agreed,” Jaime said, refusing to meet Bart’s eyes.</p><p>Bart turned to go to the front door, but decided to just take the bedroom window—the less time he spent here, the better. Plus, a two-story drop was nowhere near as bad as whatever <em>this </em>was. </p><p>Shoelaces still untied, Bart swung his legs over the frame and hit the ground running.</p><hr/><p>Monday came a bit too quickly for Bart’s liking, not just because he had a morning chemistry class, but because his lab partner was <em> Jaime</em>.</p><p>That seemed to take care of itself though, because when Bart entered the classroom, he found Jaime talking to the teacher’s assistant. Then, without glancing in Bart’s direction, Jaime grabbed his books from the table and moved to the other side of the room. Cassie slid her things into the spot and grabbed a stool.</p><p>“Your lab partner requested a change,” said the assistant. “Though I’m not sure why. You guys were getting along perfectly.”</p><p>“It’s complicated,” Bart muttered, setting his backpack down next to Cassie.</p><p>Surely, it was all in his head and this was all one huge, messed-up dream. And surely, half the room wasn’t staring at him. But his gaze drifted to Jaime, who was now working with a long-haired Native American guy. The normally chatty classroom spoke in hushed whispers, coupled with more sideways glances than Bart was comfortable with. </p><p>At the next table, Tim was dropping sand-sized metallic grains into a tube of clear liquid, the corner of his tongue sticking out as he focused on keeping the tweezers steady. Gar was scribbling in his workbook while humming under his breath. Kon looked around the room, visibly confused.</p><p>“Why’s everyone acting so weird?” he asked.</p><p>Gar leaned over and whispered in Kon’s ear. </p><p>Kon’s eyes widened. “BART AND JAIME DID <em> WHAT?!?</em>”</p><p>
  <em> FWOOM! </em>
</p><p>A column of yellow flames shot out from Tim’s test tube, singeing the tips of his bangs. Glaring at him, the TA pointed to the cleaning station.</p><p>“But they distracted me!” Tim exclaimed.</p><p>“I don’t care,” she said. “Wash. <em>Now</em>.”</p><p>Tim sulked out of the room.</p><p>She turned back to the class. “Everyone, please refer to the lab manual and my emails for today’s lesson…”</p><p>As she talked, Bart turned to Cassie and hissed, “How did Gar know?”</p><p>Cassie’s hand flew to her mouth. “So it’s true?”</p><p>“I mean, <em> technically</em>.”</p><p>“Was it bad?” she asked. “Is that why Jaime asked to change?”</p><p>“Cassie–”</p><p>“Who topped?”</p><p>“That’s not the point–”</p><p>“I bet it was Jaime.”</p><p>“JUST DROP IT ALREADY!”</p><p>The entire class—except Jaime—stared at him. </p><p>Rotating her wheelchair in Bart’s direction, the TA said, “I am going to ask you kindly to keep your personal life separate from your academics.” </p><p>“Yes ma’am.” Bart bowed his head.</p><p>He waited a few moments for everything to go back to normal before asking Cassie again, “How did everyone find out?”</p><p>“Kaldur overheard you from next door,” she explained. “He said your screaming and Jaime’s Spanish cursing kept him from finishing his Latin essay.”</p><p>“Hey, that’s on him for taking <em> Latin</em>.”</p><p>“Yeah, anyway,” she continued, “he ranted about you guys to Dick. And you know how Dick sucks at keeping secrets from his family, so Jason and Tim found out fairly quickly. Jason then told Roy who told Cissie who told Artemis who told Zatanna who told Traci who told Natasha who told Ed who told Virgil who told Perdita who told Gar who told Kon just now who,” she gestured around the room, “told everyone that didn’t already know. I heard it from Tim but I <em> swear </em> I didn’t tell anyone else.”</p><p>Bart pointed to the chemical-filled beaker on the counter. “How much of that does it take to kill me?”</p><p>“Come on, it can’t be <em>that </em>bad,” said Cassie.</p><p>“No,” he deadpanned. “It’s worse.”</p><p>“I thought you liked him,” she said. </p><p>Biting the inside of his cheek, Bart lifted his head just enough to catch Jaime reaching for something on a shelf, sweatshirt lifting slightly. </p><p>Bart snapped his attention back before any thoughts could form, stomach flipping. “He doesn’t feel the same.”</p><p>Cassie scoffed incredulously. “He had sex with you.”</p><p>“We were blacked out,” Bart reasoned. “It was a fluke.”</p><p>As he worked through the questions in the book, Cassie stopped his hand. “Think about it, Bart. When was the last time either of you went on a date?”</p><p>He bit his lip.</p><p>“If I recall correctly,” she said, “Jaime broke up with Traci in freshman year. And you haven’t been with anyone since you took Ed to prom in <em> high school </em>. That’s gotta count for something, right?”</p><p>“Correlation is not causation,” Bart said, rolling his eyes. “He’s probably straight as an arrow.”</p><p>“Need I remind you—”</p><p>“—please don’t—”</p><p>“<em>He had sex with you</em>,” Cassie emphasized. “That seems pretty not-straight to me. And from what I’ve seen, I think you both want something more than friendship. Like, have you seen how Jaime looks at you? It’s the same way you look at Chicken Whizees—and him.”</p><p>Bart huffed. “Fine. I’ll talk to him after class.”</p><hr/><p>An hour turned into a day. A day turned into a week, and then a month. But every time Bart tried to talk to Jaime, his throat went dry and his survival instincts screamed for him to run. Even over text, his thumbs hovered over the keyboard but refused to come down, like runaway hot air balloons. The whole time, Jaime didn’t even come within fifty feet of Bart, let alone look or speak.</p><p>Bart didn’t blame him. The stupid rumor probably caused as much grief on his end as it did on Bart’s. </p><p>That didn’t stop the longing from growing inside Bart’s chest, trying to reach out but bound by cowardice and social convention. He <em>missed </em> Jaime. There was no one to make stupid commentary with him at the movies; it was just Bart, a tub of popcorn, a kid behind him kicking his seat, a snoring Tim, and emptiness. There was nobody else was awake at odd hours for impromptu games of tag in the empty parking lot of Hobby Lobby—he tried calling his cousin, but got a resounding “fuck off, it’s three in the morning.” Worst of all, Bart had nobody to share his Chicken Whizees with. Not that he didn’t eat most of them when Jaime was around, but they tasted better.</p><p>In fact, Bart got so bored that, for the first time since enrolling, he paid a visit to the <em>library</em>. Yes, the suffocatingly quiet brick building that Jaime said he’d treat Bart to dinner if he ever went there.</p><p>And that was where Cassie found him. </p><p>She slapped a magazine down in front of Bart before taking a seat. “Bartholomew Allen, I present you the answer to all your problems.”</p><p>He picked up the magazine—a seven-year-old copy of Cosmopolitan. “You… want me to look at pictures of Megan Fox? I don’t know how to tell you this, Cassie, but I’m not into…” </p><p>Cassie rolled her eyes. “If I wanted you to gawk at pretty people, I would’ve brought Sports Illustrated. Check the bookmarked page.”</p><p>Bart flipped to a dog-eared page. “‘Ways To Boost Your Dating Confidence’?”</p><p>“Cosmo tips are surprisingly helpful,” Cassie remarked.</p><p>He scanned the page. “Alright, but they’re not gonna help me if I can’t even get near him. We don’t see each other besides class, and I don’t think Babs would be happy with me…” Bart glanced at the article again. “<em>‘Wearing something sexy.’</em>”</p><p>“Kon’s birthday is next week,” she said. “He’s gonna make sure Jaime is there. All you gotta do,” she pointed to the magazine, “is bring your all.”</p><p>“What are you saying?”</p><p>She smiled. “We’re gonna get you hooked up.”</p><p>Bart shook his head. “Nope. No way. We’re <em> not </em> letting that happen again.”</p><p>“Fine.” Cassie pulled out another magazine.</p><p>“Tiger Beat talks friendsh—oh my God, Cassie, just get to the point!”</p><p>Her expression softened. “Bart, I know you miss him. And I can bet my money that he misses you. One way or another, you guys need to talk.”</p><p>Bart hated to admit it, but she had a point.</p><hr/><p>Bart undid the top two buttons of his suffocating dress shirt as he accepted the red plastic cup from Cassie, feeling the rush of air against his skin. Without looking or tasting, he downed the contents and tossed it onto a table with its empty brethren. The room started to spin as the stinging stench of whiskey assaulted his nostrils. </p><p>Cassie tugged him from the loud, crowded kitchen to the loud, crowded living room. “Come on, we’re doing karaoke.”</p><p>He didn’t get a chance to protest before he was shoved in front of a plasma screen TV, stumbling over the corner of the rug… and right into Jaime’s arms. As quickly as he landed, Bart pulled away and brushed himself off. Somebody (probably Gar) wolf-whistled. Tim looked confused; Kon and Cassie were more amused.</p><p>Bart cleared his throat. “Wanna pick the song?”</p><p>Jaime, face flushed from the alcohol, smiled. “I think I know the one.”</p><p> </p><p>After the song—and that was the only song, because Bart’s voice cracked and he refused to step forward again—the two of them found themselves sharing an armchair as Tim and Kon did their fourth off-tune rendition of “Barbie Girl” that night. Bart’s legs were draped over Jaime’s lap, an empty can hanging lazily from his fingers. He yawned and rested his head on Jaime’s shoulder. The cinnamon scent was there again, and Bart swore he could die happy drowning in it.</p><p>Jaime whispered, “What say we get outta here?”</p><p>Bart hiccuped. “Where to?”</p><p>“My place?” Jaime suggested, quirking an eyebrow.</p><p>“Great minds think alike.”</p><p> </p><p>They stumbled into Jaime’s dorm, not even bothering to turn on the lights. Bart flopped onto the couch, one more button undone. The cold white lights of the mini-fridge flooded the room for a brief second before Jaime returned with a frosty amber bottle and two glasses.</p><p>“<em>Heeey</em>, that looks like the one I bought.” Bart giggled. “But I dunno where I put mine.”</p><p>Jaime paused, doing a double-take. “Maybe I shouldn’t give you more.”</p><p>“<em>Noooo</em>,” Bart whined. “I’m fine, Bart.”</p><p>“I’m not Bart,” Jaime replied, pouring a shot and downing it. “…Am I?” He shook his head. “No, I’m Jaime. You’re Bart. Yeah, that sounds ‘bout right.”</p><p>Bart made grabby hands at the bottle. “My turn!”</p><p>He tipped a hearty splash into the glass and through the hatch it went, burning like… well, like <em>rum</em>.</p><p>“You look more like a Jaime, anyway,” Bart remarked, ready to pour another one.</p><p>Jaime snatched the bottle. “No double turns!” He poured another serving and swallowed it.</p><p>As Bart took a swig straight from the bottle, Jaime scooted closer, until their bodies were almost touching. Warmth radiated from both like solar flares, the ripples distorting as they converged. </p><p>“Can I share a secret?” Jaime asked.</p><p>Bart nodded eagerly.</p><p>In an instant, Bart’s hands were pinned on the leathery cushion above his head and Jaime’s plush-soft lips were on his. Hips moving in time with Jaime’s hands, Bart’s eyelids slid shut, a quiet but unholy moan escaping his throat.</p><p>“Bedroom?” he asked.</p><p>Jaime scooped him up. “Bedroom.” </p><hr/><p>This time, he knew before consciousness even fully hit him.</p><p>Bart buried his face in his hands. “Ah, shit fuckin’ piss nuts. Not again, <em> please</em>.”</p><p>He opened one eye in time to see Jaime bolt up in panic. Propping himself on one elbow, Bart tried not to focus on the blanket draped over their lower halves as he watched Jaime run his fingers through his spiky hair</p><p>“<em>¿¡¿Cómo?!?</em>” Jaime exclaimed. “How the hell did we—”</p><p>“I know,” Bart replied, grabbing his clothes from a nearby chair. “And I don’t know.”</p><p>They didn’t speak as they dressed themselves, though they sure took their time compared to the previous encounter. The whole time, Bart ruminated over what on <em> earth </em>this could all mean.</p><p>“Can I look now?” Jaime asked.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m decent,” Bart said, pulling on his shirt. He added, “I have a feeling Kaldur is <em> so </em> done with us.”</p><p>“I’ll walk you out,” Jaime offered.</p><p>Bart nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.</p><p>At the door, Jaime asked, “We're gonna pretend this never happened?”</p><p>Something about this didn’t sit right with Bart. Granted, his brain was still fuzzy from the hangover, but it didn’t take a sober person to know that brushing it off wouldn’t work.</p><p>He whirled around. “No.”</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“No,” Bart repeated. “I don’t wanna pretend this never happened. Fact is that it did, and I might’ve blacked out on the details, but I know it felt <em> great</em>.”</p><p>Jaime shook his head. “It’s probably just coincidence. I don’t wanna do anything that jeopardizes what we have.”</p><p>Bart crossed his arms. “And what exactly is that? Because—correct me if I’m wrong—friends don’t sleep with each other.”</p><p>Jaime went silent.</p><p>“You know that saying <em>‘drunk people tell no lies’</em>? I think our drunk selves are trying to tell us something.”</p><p>Letting out a single chuckle, Jaime responded, “Well, my drunk self is a stupid ass who’s trying to delude himself into thinking that you see me the same way.”</p><p>“Like I said: drunk people tell no lies.” Bart stepped forward and placed a hand on Jaime’s face. “This wasn’t how I planned on having you find out,” he said. “Hell, I didn’t plan on having you find out at all. But perhaps this is for the better. Skirting around wasn’t getting us anywhere.”</p><p>Jaime looped his arms around Bart’s waist. “If that’s how you feel…”</p><p>Bart draped his arms over Jaime’s shoulders and placed a peck on his lips. “Always, carnita.”</p><p>“Please never speak Spanish again.” Jaime rolled his eyes fondly and returned the kiss. “So… what now?”</p><p>Bart smiled. “We could always start a new rumor.”</p>
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